


One Shell of a Date

by ToraMeri



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Attempt at Humor, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToraMeri/pseuds/ToraMeri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik didn't expect anything different than usual to happen when Azazel drags him out to a bar one night. He didn't expect a young and pretty newly minted Genetics professor to start flirting with him and to ask him out on a date.</p><p> </p><p>He certainly didn't expect that date to be a supermarket, watching lobsters fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Shell of a Date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kageillusionz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz/gifts).



> Please appreciate the fact that I had to look up lobster puns to find this title.

Erik sighed into his drink as he watched Azazel make a fool of himself. Again. Honestly, how could he not see that the blonde girl he was hitting on was clearly not interested? His amusement spikes when another woman sidles up to them and kisses the blonde woman on the mouth. Azazel is left spluttering as the two women turn their eyes to him, wearing matching wicked smiles on their faces. Suddenly, his vision of the spectacle, aka blackmail material, was blocked by someone heaving themselves up onto the chair next to him. He turned his body away as quickly as he could, and still make it look like a natural progression. It was an art he had perfected over the years of his “friendship” with Azazel, due to the many times the other man had dragged him out to what felt like all the bars in the country. A voice broke across his silent brooding, breaking the _very clear_ social cue of speaking to someone with the extreme leave-me-the-fuck-alone vibes that Erik was emanating.

“I can’t decide if that, ah, display is hilarious or just plain sad.” Erik ignores the owner of the voice; British, and presumably male. Who knows? He’s not going to be the asshole who doesn’t understand what a gender spectrum is. The Brit keeps talking, still not understanding that Erik isn’t interested, much like that blonde woman. “Trust me, it would have been best for everyone if he just stopped trying so hard. Not that I’m speaking from experience of course. Well, I sort of am. That’s my sister you see – oh dear, I am rambling your ear off, aren’t I?” Erik turns to his now silent neighbor, intending to relay a scathing remark about not paying attention to bloody body language when his gaze is caught by impossibly blue eyes, and oh Lord is that lipstick? A mouth that shade of red is just not natural. It can’t be. Those lips are now stretching into a smirk. “Got your attention now, have I?” Erik doesn't say a word, partly in embarrassment that he had been caught staring at that sinful mouth, and partly because he just did not know what to say. "Charles Xavier. And might I say that your OCA2 mutation is absolutely stunning?" Erik blinks slowly, not sure if he heard correctly.

"I... My what now?" As soon as the words escape his mouth, Erik immediately wants to pull them back from existence. This is why he hates interactions with people. It's honestly a miracle that Azazel has stuck by his side this long. Even Emma Frost gave up on him being an absolutely hopeless case.

"Blue eyes. Did you know that originally humans only had brown eyes? And then, through some strange twist of fate - or science, I suppose - it all changed. You see, blue eyes aren't a different pigmentation, they are caused by a  _lack_ of pigmentation. And yours, my friend, are simply gorgeous." Well, if Erik's going to suffer through the process of being flirted with, at least it's with someone who has some knowledge in that space between their ears. And, well... His new found companion is attractive enough.

"Do you say that to all the girls?" His companion - Charles - grins.

"Only the pretty boys that I'd be interested in spending the night with." Erik snorts at that response. A flirt who has plenty of experience... Great.

"Good luck with that. I can tell you right off the bat, that it's not going to happen." Charles raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Now _that_ Erik can clearly tell comes from regular encounters with a pair of tweezers. There are things that are forever seared into Erik's mind. The year where he had to share an apartment with Emma was one of them. His biggest mistakes are usually the more easily accessible memories for some reason.

"Oh? Why not? Do you want me to convince you? I'm very sure I can convince you. I'm a very convincing person. In fact. I convinced a panel of prejudiced old farts to grant me a Ph. D in Genetics just this afternoon." Erik raises his glass in a congratulatory manner just as an idea hits him.

"Fine. Convince me. Do your worst. Only... you have to do it under one condition: Don't seduce me. Try and give me a reason to have sex with you, that does not have an overt sexual manner." Let's see him handle that little challenge. But instead of falling flat, Charles' face lights up in an anticipatory manner. _  
_

"A challenge now, hmm? Well, I must say that I chose rather well tonight. Though I must admit... I was hoping for a name." Erik opens his mouth to answer but instead all that comes out is:

"I'll tell you my name when I'm convinced, and no sooner. I do want to know how far you're willing to go." Charles gives him a roguish grin.

"For you my friend, I suspect I would go very far indeed." Before Erik can reply to that, a hand darts to his pocket and fishes out his phone with a surprising amount of ease. He starts to protest, but Charles places his other hand over his mouth, quickly silencing his protests. "I'm just going to input my contact information. I should probably go rescue that poor man from my sister and her girlfriend, and I can't put together a truly outstanding argument that will get me what I want in a span of 5 minutes." He finishes up the process by sending a text to, presumably, to his own phone. "There. Now, are you free tomorrow?" At Erik's nod of confirmation, he continues. "Great! I'll send you details tomorrow morning." And with that he swans off to where his sister and her girlfriend are terrifying Azazel into keeping them supplied with a constant stream of drinks. After Charles expertly bundles them up and ushers the women out into the night, Azazel rejoins him at the bar, looking relieved that his wallet isn't going to be completely empty by the end of the night. They remain there for another couple hours before stumbling back home through the dark, singing loudly about following their feet.

* * *

 

Erik is woken up by the sound of his phone buzzing loudly on the night table. He groans at the way the sound pierces through his brain, and exacerbates the pounding in his head. He reaches for the device, and opens it with his eyes still closed. It takes him a few minutes to muster up the strength to open his eyes and see what had been the cause of his awakening. There's a message from a contact he knows he didn't have before last night. He stares at it blankly before realizing that it's an address. A few seconds later, his phone vibrates again with another incoming message. This time it's instructions to wear comfortable clothing, and if he could wait to eat until after arriving, that would be great. It takes him another 10 minutes before curiosity grabs a hold of him, taunting him with last night's memories of blue eyes, red lips, and lightly freckled milk white skin. After half an hour has passed, he's already on his way out the door, leaving a mug of coffee and a couple of painkillers on the kitchen counter for Azazel to find. The address surprisingly isn't too far from his own; it's closer to the university than his place, and quite possibly one of the university owned apartment buildings. When he arrives at the address given to him, he sees Charles sitting out on the step, smoke from a half finished cigarette curling up into the air around him. Charles looks up at his approaching footsteps, and when their eyes meet, Erik realizes that yes, those eyes are still as blue as he remembers, and no, that probably isn't lipstick. He comes to a stop in front of him, and offers his hand out. Charles wordlessly grabs on to it and heaves himself up, throwing down the cigarette onto the ground, stubbing it out with his shoe when he's standing fully upright.

"Ready to go?" He's still holding onto Erik's hand, and doesn't seem to have the intention of letting go any time soon. 

"Yeah. Where are we going?" Charles just laughs, a rich happy sound that Erik realizes he'd like to hear again, and tugs him along in the direction of the university.

"Not telling you until we get there, darling. It's all part of the fun!" It's then, at that very moment, where Erik realizes he may have made a bit of a mistake. Not that he's regretting it. No... This seems like the mistake that always turns out for the best. They walk in silence for 15 minutes before coming to a stop in front of... a supermarket? Erik has no time to question Charles before he's being dragged inside. Charles expertly weaves through the various other shoppers, effortlessly grabbing a shopping basket and shoving it into Erik's arms on their way to wherever Charles intends for them to go. They end up in the seafood aisle, and Erik shivers from the chilliness of the refrigerated aisles. He tries to question Charles about what they were doing in the seafood aisle at the supermarket, standing aimlessly in front of an empty tank filled with water - oh. The tank isn't empty. It's filled with  _lobsters_. Lobsters that were charging at each other, attempting to snap their tied up pincers at each other. Erik turns to look at Charles.

"Erik." Charles looks up from where he's bent over the tank, childish glee fading from his face.

"I'm pretty sure you remembered my name-" Erik cuts him off before he can continue.

"Mine. I mean, it's my name. I'm Erik." Charles gapes at him, all traces of the suave flirt from the previous night gone. Then, his face is overtaken by a smile so wide, that his eyes turn crinkly.

"Is that so?" Erik grins back, momentarily forgetting to be subconscious about his habit of overexposing his teeth.

"Yeah. You took me to see  _lobsters fighting in a supermarket_. You've convinced me." Charles seems to make a split decision, and tugs Erik down into a surprisingly chaste kiss. Erik gives himself a mental kick at his own surprise. They were in a supermarket, of course they weren't going to have a Nicholas Sparks novel-esque kiss.

"Come on. I'll make you dinner. Anything you want." Erik raises an eyebrow at that.

"Anything? Really?" Charles just keeps smiling at him.

"Well, we are in a supermarket." This time, it's Erik who's pulling Charles in a new direction.

"Just so you know, I'm Jewish." 

"We can work with that."

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit this turned super fucking fluffy. Note how I did not swear except for one time. I'm impressed at my own ability to not say 'fuck', and any variation of it, every other sentence.
> 
> Also, please watch this video of lobsters fighting, it is an experience: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3Y9AQxfHSs
> 
> And this was the song that Erik and Azazel were trying to drunkenly sing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejLveeg_RnU
> 
> Oh yeah, who can notice the Addams Family musical reference?


End file.
